27. Oakley

Chapter 27

Oakley

J eremiah's called a meeting with two of his brothers to try to figure out who is stalking us. His hands are steady as he presents a stack of papers to Graham and Penn.

"Are there snacks? Do we have hats? Like, what can I expect from this team meeting? Where's the round table? I have fucking questions Jerry and the least you could do is provide libations especially after I just played captain save-a-hoe for you and my bestie like less than an hour ago?" I'm more convinced now than ever that Penn was switched at birth.

"What's this?" Graham asks, leaning forward with his brow furrowing and stopping whatever argument was about to happen between the other two Blackwoods, sucking up all the air in the room. He takes the stack from Jeremiah, his broad shoulders tense with a restless energy.

"More evidence," Jeremiah replies, his voice tight. "Whoever this is, followed us up to Bridgehead and trashed my bike,"

"Jesus Christ," Graham mutters, his eye twitching already .

"I want to know who this fucker is," Jeremiah continues, his voice steady. "Watching her every move, sending threats…It has to be whoever attacked her back when…" I hear the waver in his voice, like he feels like I was only attacked that night because he wasn't there to protect me.

I cut in because I don't want him to carry that burden any longer, "when I was at St. James, someone attacked me. I don't remember much of it, but Jeremiah thinks this is the same person."

"How the hell does this just happen, and no one knows shit?" Graham's voice is taut with anger, his piercing brown eyes locking onto mine.

I swallow hard, my mind racing. The memories of the past flood back, each moment of fear and paranoia amplified by the dark, oppressive thoughts swirling around me.

"Bunny, it's going to be okay. You have me. You have my brothers too," Jeremiah says softly, his gaze shifting to me before shooting back to Graham and Penn. Graham nods in affirmation.

"I'm down to fuck some shit up," Penn says, grinning, leaning back on the recliner and crossing his arms over his chest. "Any idea who it is? If not, no worries. I have no problem just picking off random dudes till we get the right one." He shrugs and I want to laugh, but I don't because I know he's not kidding. Penn Blackwood is psychotic.

I shake my head slowly, my fingers intertwining and twisting together in my lap. "He got spooked when he heard someone coming and he knocked me out. When I woke up, he was gone. I don't remember what he looked like."

"Was it on campus?" Penn asks, his eyes still fixed on the disturbing photos before his gaze moves up to me. I nod and he asks, "At a party? "

Jeremiah nods yes for me, his expression grim as he pulls me on his lap. He can see I'm shutting down and I'm grateful he knows me so well.

Graham leans forward, eyes like ice chips boring into me. "Oakley," he says, voice low and rough-edged. "Do you have any idea who it might be? Anybody at all? Anyone you talked to that night? Did he live at the house where the party was?"

My hands twist together in my lap, fingers knotting and unknotting like a nervous dance.

"I wish I did. Rem has asked me countless times, but there's nothing up here." My voice is barely more than a whisper, but it feels like it's echoing in the vast room. " I didn't really have any friends at St. James. I was so used to tagging along with you guys—" I can feel the weight of their stares pressing down on me. "I thought maybe by getting out, I'd meet some new people. Turns out not everyone is as nice to me as the infamous Blackwood brothers." I try to joke, but no one laughs. Jeremiah presses his face against my hair, pulling me tight against his chest.

"Dammit, Oakley," Graham growls, his frustration palpable. "You cannot trust random people."

I feel Jeremiah take a deep breath like he's about to lay into Graham for blaming me, but it's Penn who snaps at him. "It's not her fault. Royce wasn't there to protect her, and neither were any of us. So shut the fuck up before you shut her down completely. You're the least in tune with emotions, Grammy and so let your big brother take the lead. We need to figure out who the fucker is so we can rip his dick off and make him swallow it."

I glance at Jeremiah, hoping for some sign of reassurance, but his face is a mask of grim determination. Penn's smirk is gone; his usual sarcastic edge replaced by a rare seriousness. For once, we're all united by the same goal, the same need to end this nightmare.

"I'm scared," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't know who it is. I wish I did. But I don't want to put any of you in danger. Because I live here, I feel like that's exactly what I'm doing."

Penn twirls his finger in the air as if to say, ‘big whoop'. "I'd like to see them fucking try to come in here. I hope they do, actually. I wouldn't have to worry about public cameras, moving bodies, you know the usual shit that gets little piggies sniffing around."

"Did your mom drop kick you when you were a baby?" Graham snaps at Penn before turning to me, "No one will touch you here. We'll figure it out. I'm sorry that happened to you." Graham isn't one to express emotion and the words come out clipped and straight to the point, but I know he means what he says.

"I'm gonna get punched in the dick for bringing this up, I'm sure." Penn's voice slices through the quiet like a knife. He leans back in his chair, eyes glinting, and I just know whatever he says next is going to be bad. "But let's not forget there might be other reasons someone would want to keep tabs on you, Oakley."

I stiffen, already knowing where he's going. At least my new laptop is not within arm's reach of Jeremiah.

"Maybe one of your...viewers?" He raises an eyebrow, the implication hanging heavy in the air. "From your stripper shows."

My stomach churns. The room feels smaller, suffocating. My hands fidget in my lap, fingers twisting together as if they can somehow hold me together. I force myself to meet his gaze, then look away just as quickly when I feel Jeremiah jerk forward. "It's okay," I say, but Jeremiah's eyes are zeroed in on his brother.

"I never stripped, first of all," I tell him, my voice steady but low. "But I blocked and reported any of the guys who gave me a hard time. I was careful to use a backdrop, and I never gave any identifying info, so they'd know where to find me."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you did all the things but little Ashford, when it comes to crazy baby, none of that matters. One small slip up and they can find you. I do it all the time," Penn says, sarcasm dripping from every word. His eyes are fixed on me, challenging.

"I'm telling you I didn't slip up," I snap, frustration bubbling up. "But being a cam girl was therapeutic for me. It gave me control after...after everything."

The room goes silent. I can feel every eye on me, judging, questioning. The weight of their scrutiny presses down, making it hard to breathe.

"Therapy, huh?" Penn's tone is mocking, but there's something else there too—curiosity, maybe even understanding. "Interesting choice."

"Yeah, well, we all have our ways," I reply, my voice sharp. "And mine helped me reclaim my body, my autonomy."

"Okay, okay, chill," Penn says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. He's snickering and I realize then he only brought up the cam site thing to irritate Jeremiah. It wasn't this side of five minutes ago he was admonishing Graham for victim blaming me. "Just putting it out there."

"Well, put it back," Jeremiah snaps, glaring at him. I can tell that he's trying to hold himself back for my sake. He doesn't want to upset me by pummeling Penn right now. Penn wouldn't go down without a knock down drag out fight and it would be a whole thing none of us have time for right now.

"Enough," Graham's voice cuts through our exchange, firm and authoritative. "This isn't helping."

"Fine. Bunch of wet fucking blankets. Did I upset you, Oakley?" Penn mutters, leaning back again. But his eyes never leave me, studying, calculating. I just shake my head no, because he didn't.

Graham leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes moving from Jeremiah to me. "Oakley, can you remember anything—anything at all about the assault? Even the smallest detail might help." His voice is gentle, yet there's a steely edge to it, a promise of protection and vengeance.

I swallow hard. Memories flash like broken glass in my mind, sharp and painful. "I—I don't know," I stammer, my fingers twisting together in my lap. "It's all so fragmented. I don't even know if any of the fragments are actually real."

"Think, Oakley," Graham urges, his tone softening as he reaches out, almost touching my hand but stopping short probably because he knows how territorial Jeremiah has become with me. "Anything might trigger something useful. We need to find this bastard."

I look up, my gaze drifting to the gold necklace around his neck. His football number glints in the dim light, catching my eye. Suddenly, it's like a switch flips in my brain. My breath catches in my throat as the memory floods back, vivid and horrifying.

"That necklace," I whisper, my voice trembling. "The guy...he wore one, too. But it had letters on it. ‘KA.'"

Graham's eyes widen, and he leans in closer, his expression intense. "Kappa Alpha? Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. "Positive. It's burned into my memory. The letters were bright against the dark background. I could never forget them. "

The room falls silent again, the air thick with tension. Graham's jaw tightens, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. He stands abruptly, pacing the room with restless energy. Graham's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he processes my revelation. Every muscle in my body is taut.

"Fantastic," Penn drawls, breaking the silence with his trademark sarcasm. His eyes narrow into slits. "You know what we should do? Burn the entire Kappa Alpha house down while they sleep. Quick, efficient, problem solved."

For a moment, the room hangs in shocked stillness, as if everyone collectively forgot how to breathe. My heart pounds so loudly I can hear it echoing in my ears.

"Are you insane?" I manage to choke out, feeling horror and disbelief. He is in fact insane, I'm not sure why I even said that in shock.

"Penn, this isn't a joke," Jeremiah snaps, his voice tinged with anger, his protectiveness hanging around us like a dark cloud. His eyes lock onto mine for a split second, sending a jolt through my body.

"Who said I was joking?" Penn retorts, a sly grin creeping across his face. "Desperate times, desperate measures. Besides, it gets the job done."

"You can't commit a mass murder because you don't feel like figuring out which fucker hurt Oakley," Graham interjects, fists clenched at his sides. His frustration is shared.

"Call it what you want," Penn shrugs nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair. "I call it justice."

"Justice?" The word tastes bitter on my tongue. "There's got to be another way. We can't just go burning buildings down."

"Don't worry, little Ashford," Penn says smoothly, leaning forward. His voice lowers. "We'll make sure you're far away when it happens. Wouldn't want you getting singed."

"Enough!" Jeremiah's voice cuts through the room, commanding everyone's attention. He rises from his seat, eyes blazing with anger. "We'll find the motherfucker and make him talk. Then make him fucking pay."

"Whatever you say, brother," Penn replies, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just remember, sometimes the simplest solution is the best one."

"Enough of this bullshit." Graham's voice cuts through the tension like a whip. He's been silent up until now, but the frustration is evident in his furrowed brow, his clenched fists. He steps forward, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the room. "We're going to play this smart and you two can even follow along or go fuck off. Neither of you are actually helping Oakley or this situation right now."